“Oh. He came here?” Was he a mama’s boy?
“Yes. He and Braydon still share with their old mom. Their dad, too.” She nodded, and the grin appeared again. “Logan is a wonderful father, but there’s nothing like a mother’s advice, even for a grown man.”
Cindy wished she had a mom. Why did hers commit suicide ten years ago? As a Christian, that broke her heart doubly. Especially since Mom had professed faith. Would that profession of faith allow her to enter heaven? She blinked back more tears. This mind wandering wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Could you, would you be willing, to share Rob’s story with me? I need to understand – a lot more than I do.”
~
Cindy leaned back against the headrest. She had stuck the key in the ignition, but couldn’t make herself turn it. So many words and images zoomed through her mind. Especially the statement Lydia had said. “…the woman my son loves.” That was a biggie. Yes, Rob had told her on the phone he loves her, but to share with his mother … wow!
Lydia had described in detail about his arrest. She could almost see the police cars out in front of the Lovejoy home, the ones that had followed him from his attempted drug sale. She envisioned Lydia praying in the corner of her front porch, her secret room she’d said, like Jesus said in the Bible in Matthew. It was all so unbelievable. Yet, Lydia swore Rob had given her permission to share. That was over five years ago, at least. Her mind was swimming with so much information. Swimming! Such a perfect analogy for a Candy Cane. Now, she had to decide. What stroke should she use in her relationship with Rob? She was tempted to do backstroke, but that seemed cowardly, and it was Doreen’s official stroke, the one she won competition with as the anchor.
Cindy was the best freestyler on the team. That’s why she always led, to set the pace for the others. But, what did that mean in life? How did it transfer?
Just before she turned on the ignition she remembered Rob’s mom’s last remark. “Did he mention anything else?” She had blinked her eyes several times and sort of mumbled. “Never mind. His call.” Then a friendly, warm, “Goodbye, dear. Call me any time.”
What was “anything else?” More secrets?
She thumped her hands on the steering wheel, gripped it hard, and drove home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rob banged around, slamming his fists into walls and tables and overturning chairs. He knew Cindy was meeting with his mom, Mom told him. Just like her. He wished he hadn’t known. So much easier. Finally, he poured a cup of really strong coffee and called his mom.
“Robinson, stop! Stop this worrying. Stop!”
“Mom, it’s hard. I have never felt this way about a woman before. Do you know she stepped on my toes?”
Silence. Then, “What on earth are you talking about?”
“At the wedding. We were dancing, and Cindy stepped on my toes, just as we started to twirl.”
“Fond memory, I hope.” Lydia paused before going on. “So? Does that mean she is a no or a yes?” He could almost see the expression of confusion on her face. Mom was so transparent, even over the phone.
Without warning, Dad grabbed the phone. He was always no nonsense, right to the point. “Do you love her?”
Rob nodded, then realized they couldn’t hear the rattling in his head. “Yes.”
“Does she love you?” his dad said.
“I think so. Ask Mom who spent some time with her today.”
This time he could almost hear Mom’s head rattling. Dad came back on. “Then, go for it, son! Don’t waste time. God sometimes gives us one opportunity to make things right. This may be yours.”
~
Lydia’s words came back to Cindy. “I felt as if Rob was a stranger. How could I have not seen the signs? Some of them weren’t even subtle.”
Cindy felt the same way. Surely she would have seen signs in Rob’s demeanor and behavior. Yet, he always seemed so normal, so sincere, so above board. Always the gentleman, and the best dancer in history. She grinned to herself. Was that what attracted her to him?
She reminded herself, however, that he was five years sober. Of course she wouldn’t see any obvious signs. Candy did tell her that often even recovering alcoholics still have some behaviors that linger – mostly personality behaviors. She was sure he didn’t sneak an occasional drink, or even act like he wanted one. He did have a stubborn streak, didn’t like anyone to tell him what to do, or how. She was sort of like that, too, she realized – team leader type. Well, she had a strong personality. After all, she was used to corralling dozens of three and four year olds, but in a sweet voice and diplomatic manner. Yet, there were times when she blew it and had to be very firm.
She laughed to herself remembering little Justin’s comment right before Christmas break. The kids were so excited, chattering about Santa and reindeer and the toys they had asked him for. Of course as soon as she had lined them up for the Christmas pageant, at least three of them had to go to the bathroom. To make potty time more difficult, the little girls were all dressed as angels in long white gowns made from sheets, and the boys were shepherds attired in brown burlap cotton sacks with oversized cotton headbands. Thank goodness her wonderful co-teacher, Mandy, offered to take them. She knew Mandy would do the deed as quickly as possible, but would the kids? It was especially hard with the girls because their angel wings got in the way of holding up their skirts. Finally, she heard the toilets between the shared classrooms flush three times just as she heard Miss Patti the music minister call for her class. Mandy led the children back to their places, but she was holding a big wad of paper towers on little Tiffany’s wings soaking up wetness.
Cindy had thanked Mandy, rolled her eyes and firmly said, “Children, your parents and families are waiting for you to sing your beautiful songs. Everybody ready now?”
Apparently, her voice had an edge to it; something she tried to not happen. But, it must have, for four year old Justin made a loud announcement. “Miss Cindy mad. You guys all behave.”
Yes, she probably had been mad, more at herself than the children. She should have insisted each child go potty before donning their costumes. All her fault.
She rolled over in bed trying to put her conversation with Lydia Lovejoy in perspective. She was sure Lydia liked her; she was even almost sure the woman hoped she would be her daughter-in-law. Someday. What she wasn’t sure of was how she felt. She finally fell asleep seeking the Lord’s guidance. She was too tired to figure it out.
~
The dratted phone was buzzing again. Hopefully Rob doing one of his pre-midnight calls.
She was tempted to ignore it. Was calling this late one of the latent signs of his disease? One of
the lingering signs? Maybe he had trouble sleeping and calling her helped him calm down.
She reached for the phone vibrating on her nightstand. “Hi. You okay?”
The voice on the other end was female, and nasty. “I am not okay,” it said. “You stole him from me.”
Cindy rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Who was this person? “Who,” she finally managed to ask, “are you?”
She knew her words were slurred from sleep, but she had to know. Was this an old flame of Rob’s? Had he professed love to her as he had to Cindy?
“Doesn’t matter who I am. For five years we have supported each other, said we loved each other, too.” The person on the other end sucked in a deep breath. “He is mine. Always will be. So buzz off. Leave him alone.”
Cindy heard a click. The other woman was gone, and she lay in her bed still clutching her phone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She needed to do something active, something to work off worry and frustration. The holiday break was almost over, and Cindy knew from the way her jeans fit she had gained some inches. She could always go to Natalie’s gym, but machines and free weights didn’t sound appealing. Swimming did. The community Candy’s parents lived in had two pools. She was sure they would lend her a key.
She rooted around in her bottom dresser
drawer, the depository for seldom used items. The bikini was a no. She felt too chunky for it, plus it wasn’t all that comfortable for actual swimming – more like for sunning on the beach. Wadded in the corner was her old red and white striped team suit, the one she had worn as part of the Candy Canes. It would have to do, if only she could still fit into it. Even if it was tight, it would cover most of her body. With a few groans and tugs she pulled it on, then she called Candy’s parents.
Mrs. Ashford answered on the first ring. After a brief conversation during which the dear lady exclaimed, “How delightful to hear your voice, Cynthia!” she said, “Of course you may borrow our key. I’m excited another Candy Cane will be working out there.”
Cindy attempted to explain she wasn’t “working out” for any competition, just to hopefully lose some holiday excess. Why had she imbibed in chocolate so much? And of all things, candy canes and Jelly Bellies? Probably she had made the excuse she craved them and had no reason not to. Now, with the possibility of Rob in her life, she did have a reason. Surely, he wasn’t attracted to fat women.
She wondered about the female voice on the phone, the threatening one who refused to give her name. Had Rob been more to her than a friend? Was she in AA with Rob? Or, an old flame? Probably in AA since the strident voice claimed his love and support for five years, and both Rob and his mother said he’d joined AA five years ago. Could she compete with someone he’d been close to for five years? But, how close? Was it mutual, or did the woman embellish their relationship?
On her way to pick up the pool key from Mrs. Ashford she thought how nice it would be to have companionship. All the articles she’d read about working out and losing weight suggested having a buddy, someone to keep you on track, to keep tabs. She wasn’t sure how or why she thought about Melanie. Maybe God put the new member of the Candy Canes on her heart. Maybe she needed a friend, too.
At the stoplight Cindy searched for Melanie’s phone number. Only a busy signal, no voice mail to leave a message. Feeling a bit like a Johnny Come Lately, she flung the phone on the passenger seat of her car.
She was turning into the first entrance off San Miguel Boulevard to Harbor View Homes when her phone buzzed. What? Rob’s name came up. Not what she had expected. Should she answer? She pulled over on a side street named Port Cardigan. As always when she visited this community, she wondered why all the streets, except one, were named Port streets. They were almost two miles from the Pacific, and certainly not near any port. In fact, she couldn’t think of any actual port in Newport Beach. Maybe years ago?
She stopped her car and pulled over in front of an obviously remodeled house, large and opulent with an original one-story plain stucco on either side. “Hang on,” she mouthed while parking. “Okay. What?” Silence on the other end. Had he hung up?
“I guess I deserved that.”
“Well, maybe. Since your old girlfriend called me, and,” she added, “threatened me.”
“What? Who?”
“I have no idea because she refused to give her name. But, she was angry and nasty and very confrontational.” Cindy bit her lip. “Can you imagine how I felt?”
“What did she say … specifically?”
“Mostly that you and she had supported each other for five years.” Cindy decided to reveal the most important part of the other woman’s conversation, if one could call it that since there had been minimal exchange. “I assumed she was from your AA group, but she didn’t say. She did say you told her you loved her, and I was to butt out. Leave you alone. ”
Nothing but silence on Rob’s end. Cindy almost pushed the red button on her phone. Did he really have to think about this?
“Cindy, would you be willing to come to an AA meeting with me? So, you can see what takes place?”
“Maybe. Yes, okay. When? Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow after church? Noon? Last day before end of Christmas break.”
“Okay. Give me directions.” Then she added, “Do I get to meet this woman?”
She heard another call coming in. “Gotta go. Text directions to me. K?”
Melanie was calling her back. She had seen Cindy’s number on her cell. Yes, she would love to meet her at the pool and swim laps. Good competition for both. And companionship. Much needed.
~
She almost didn’t recognize her. Her long hair was cut in a bob. Super cute Cindy thought, then remembered to tell her so. Melanie was not as trim in stature as most of the Candy Canes, but Cindy didn’t think she was either, lately. They slapped palms and dove in.
After ten laps they both collapsed on the chaise lounge chairs around the pool.
“Whew, that was quite a workout.” Melanie said in a gasping voice.
“Yep.” Cindy was grateful she still had breath.
“You gals must have been great. I can’t even imagine.”
“In high school we practiced every day, sometimes for hours. Gave us an edge. Coach Douglas always asked for extra practice time. I think he got it because Vista Del Mar wanted so much to have a winning state team. And,” she added, “we did!”
“Three years in a row? And it started when you were all only sophomores?”
Cindy saw Melanie’s eyes widen. “Yes, we were very blessed.” Then, she added, “Did you know we were all Christians? Still are?”
“So, you prayed together? Did that help?”
“Made all the difference. We had, and still do have, a deep faith. We stick together with God.”
Cindy grabbed a towel she’d brought and started to dry her hair. Squeezing out the moisture in her long tresses she noticed Melanie was staring off in space.
“You okay?” she asked.
“What? Yes. I guess.”
“You hesitated.”
“I know. It’s just that … that ….” Melanie closed her eyes. Cindy wondered if from the bright sun or if she was in thought. She leaned over and touched Melanie’s hand.
“Something is bothering you. Wanna share?”
“It’s not important.” Melanie wavered again. “Really.”
“Well,” Cindy said, “if you change your mind, I’m a good listener.” The heat of the sun made her drowsy. She wrapped the towel around her head, pushed her sunglasses up high on her nose and reclined on the chaise. Just as she started to drift off, Melanie spoke.
“I do.”
“You do what?”
“Want to share.” Her face was ashen when she turned toward Cindy.
###
Her words drifted in the air like dirty snowflakes seeking a mud puddle.
Cindy barely understood a word Melanie said, but she caught a few between incoherent mumblings. “Crazy, drugged, lost baby, hate. Guilty, so guilty.”
Cindy’s heart broke for Melanie.
Loss of purity! But, more than that. Drugs, promiscuity, loss of self.
Melanie poured her heart out to Cindy. Guilt almost drowned her.
“When my dad died, I was so angry, so bitter.” Melanie paused to let the tears fall, then turned toward Cindy again. “I went ballistic, out of control.” She shook her head as if to shake off the memories. “I suddenly had a new group of friends. Don’t know why, except they sensed my fear and loneliness and unworthiness.” She shook her head again. “They became my anchor.”
Cindy didn’t know what to say, had so many questions to ask. But, instead, she just hugged. She wiped the other girl’s tears with her towel.
Yes, Melanie did need to be led to Jesus, but was Cindy the one to do it? She found some Bible verses on her cell phone about forgiveness and Christ never leaving believers. But, Melanie needed more than random verses, especially since she wasn’t grounded in the Bible. Cindy even wondered about how grounded she herself was. Because of work, she seldom got to attend Bible study. She had even skipped church twice over Christmas break. And, instead of going to the Christmas Eve service as she’d planned, she was at the Lovejoys with Rob. If she could call it “being with” Rob. Mostly she was with the
Candy Canes and some of Rob’s surfing buddies and a few female friends of his who she now was sure were also AA. That must have been the tap on the shoulder one girl gave to another across the back of Cindy’s chair. Not wanting to give Rob away.
Mariners Church where she attended did have a Thursday evening Bible study. Not only was she tired after a long day with three year olds, but Fridays were usually the days the children’s parents came early to the classroom to collect the crafts they had made during the week. So, Cindy spent extra time cleaning up the room and scraping paste off the tables. Still, she needed to make a special effort for Melanie. She also believed the hurting woman needed to form friendships with other believers. Especially older ones who could mentor her. Maybe some who had been through what she had. One of her favorite authors Mark Batterson quotes his grandma as saying, “You never, ever, sometimes never know.” Or something like that. She grinned to herself.
Maybe Lydia Lovejoy would have an idea. She wouldn’t reveal Melanie’s secret, but she could explain a friend who believes she had committed a great sin and wants to know Jesus needs a Christian women’s group. She felt close to the woman now that they had had their own little talk, so she was comfortable calling her. Or, she could call Noelle’s mom Kerstin. She, too, had a deep faith, but she was very involved in her gardening club. Still, Cindy didn’t know what else she was a part of. She remembered the story Noelle told about how Braydon gave a presentation at the Harbor View Garden Club, and Kerstin won a rose bush Noelle helped Braydon plant.
Cindy was about to give up and leave a message when Lydia answered. The two women laughed about how long it takes to get from the bathroom to the phone. Lydia was understanding and didn’t ask questions, except, “Does she have a church home?”
Cindy wasn’t sure, but she did sort of invite Melanie to attend the ten o’clock service at Mariners next weekend. She doubted Melanie had much Christian upbringing or she would at least have mentioned a church she attended, if only occasionally.
Cindy's Perfect Dance (The Candy Cane Girls Book 2) Page 5
