Karol was headed to check anyway, but Rob pulled her back. “Ryan wants to grow up a little. Let him. Besides, you need a break. I’ll go and take them all out in a few minutes.”
“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered into Rob’s shoulder.
He lifted her chin and leaned in, finding Karol’s lips this time. The brevity and passion of the kiss took her by surprise. Rob’s love was like that: quiet, but powerful, coming alive when she least expected it. When she most needed it. “You don’t deserve me, Kay. You deserve better.”
She slumped against him, never knowing what to say when he was like this. When life was like this. Paint rubbed off on her arm as she twined her hands behind his neck. Her eyes narrowed, first at her husband and then at the window. She’d repainted enough kid-dingy walls to know white washable paint when she saw it. This wasn’t it. It was ecru or eggshell or some other froufrou color. A color for city people who bulldozed yards and ran off friends…“Are you helping them?”
Rob didn’t answer. He shrugged instead. Inwardly, Karol did, too. He could only be who he was, her husband. He didn’t know how to be anything but giving and kind.
I wish I could say the same for myself.
Right now, Karol wasn’t sure who she was. Her middle son was glad to clear that up for her.
“Mom!” A pair of hands slipped between the two of them, adhering to the front of Karol’s shirt. The very front. Though she’d weaned her son Judah years before, he still seemed to find a use for the parts which had once fed him. The current choice? Doorknobs into Mommy world. Very effective, Karol had to admit. She worried, though, that he didn’t pay attention to where his hands went sometimes.
Rob peeled his son from Karol’s shirt and lifted him into his arms. “Judah, don’t touch your mother there, okay? And go wash your hands—”
“But, Dad—”
“No buts, son. Mom and I were talking. Use your manners.” He winked at Karol and took one step before the next child, little Mia, barreled into the room, wearing her bathing suit from last summer. Hadn’t they given that to Eden, Hope’s youngest girl, before they moved away?
“Moooooom! Judah ’it me!”
Both adults stared at the oldest brother, Ryan, who’d just entered the room, hoping for a translation of their only daughter’s language. Only he knew this latest version of Mialatin. She removed the first consonant of all incriminating words. In this case, the first sound meant a big difference. While hitting his little sister was enough to get Judah into a mess, biting her would be even worse.
Karol rubbed her arm thinking of how bad his biting had been when he was a toddler. Hope had helped her through that, too. Her middle child hadn’t bit anyone in three full years now, and she prayed that losing his friends wouldn’t start him up again.
Ryan’s translation skills didn’t disappoint, but their budding young man looked plenty frustrated. Sharing a room with his little brother was “stagnating” or at least that was the latest update he’d given Karol and Rob before putting his little brother’s things into the hall to make room for his books. Puberty came a lot earlier these days, evidently.
“She said hit not bit. But, Mom—”
A banging sound echoed from down the hall. Karol and Rob looked at each other and at Ryan with panic in their eyes. Judah unattended usually meant disaster.
Rob moved first. “Where did he go to wash his hands? Bathroom?”
Karol screamed. “Kitchen!”
If there was ever a sure way to catch up with the plumber, it was Judah alone in the kitchen. Karol picked up Mia, taking a wide step to leave room for Rob, who ran to check the bathrooms just in case Judah was clogging some fixture instead of scrambling eggs on the kitchen floor.
Just the thought of what might be happening made Karol’s heart pound. She wanted to scream at him so loudly that the people next door would hear and run away screaming, too. But inside her head, Hope was there, as sure as if she was sitting on that battered couch in the corner.
Man’s anger doesn’t achieve the righteousness of God, Kay. A mother’s anger doesn’t accomplish much, either. You have the authority. Use it wisely. Don’t waste it screaming.
Another tear salted the corner of Karol’s eye and she rounded the corner in time to catch a glimpse of Judah’s super-hero cape fluttering away from the scene of the crime. Karol tucked her daughter under one arm like a football and headed for the kitchen. Her socks glided across the laminate and into a pile of…hamburger, the meat for the church potluck. Rob ran into Judah in the hall and grabbed him up just as he was about to take a bite of meat that he’d taken as a souvenir.
Karol froze, unable to do anything but stare as she calculated the cost of the food her son had fed to the floor.
And just when I’d splurged on the grain fed beef too.
The perpetrator returned. “Mom! See my burger? My burger!” Judah cried, wiggling in his father’s arms and pointing to the bloody mound on the floor.
Karol paused, looking into Rob’s eyes, the same eyes she’d looked into on her wedding day and she could swim in their chocolate depths forever. Back then, love meant flowers and candy. Now it meant capture and cleanup. Lines etched those eyes now and a frost of wisdom sprinkled Rob’s beard, but he’d never looked better to her.
“Do you want to deal with meat or munchkins?” he asked.
Neither. Today, I just want to sit down in the corner and have a quiet talk with my friend.
Karol smiled. Outwardly, anyway. The never-ending discipline that Judah seemed to require wore her out. She’d let Rob be the bad guy today. “I’ll take hamburger. And let’s blow up the pool. I know they’re used to being outside all summer. I have to go outside some time.”
Something like sunshine spread over Rob’s face. He slapped the back of her jeans. “That’s my girl.”
Judah made a gagging sound and ran ahead of his dad up the stairs. “Cover your eyes, Mia, they’re gonna kiss!”
“Ewwww!” Mia said before shielding his face from such horror.
Ryan pulled a book from the pocket of his cargo shorts and walked away from all of them. He probably wouldn’t surface until dinner, when he’d have started another book with a similar cover—dragons and swords—but a different name. Every now and then he showed up with a book of theology or philosophy, which probably worried Karol more than the dragons. Ryan was growing up too fast. They all were. And she wasn’t keeping pace with them.
As Rob’s lips met hers in a fake kiss just to freak out the kids, Karol laughed softly. Laughing was definitely better than crying.
Rob gave her a wink that meant the real kisses would come later. She watched as he left the kitchen and started toward the stairs. He stopped halfway and turned back. “I know this is hard, Kay. But it’s going to be all right. Really. I just feel it in my gut.”
What gut? Any knowledge held in Rob’s six-pack was less than reassuring. If there’d been a feeling in Karol’s nonexistent abs, that might really be something. It’d be hard to locate, but it’d be something. Still, she knew he meant well and was probably right. He usually was.
“You’re right, honey,” she said, reaching for a trash bag and hoping that what he’d said was true. Anything could happen. The new neighbors might even turn out okay.
Probably not.
Not for Karol anyway. For Rob, well, everything would be fine. He’d already gotten over losing Singh as though he’d barely known the man. Sure the two of them were better about e-mail—Hope wasn’t much of a computer person—but still the two men didn’t talk anywhere near as much as they once had. The kids still asked for Heidi-Katie-Lizzie-Tony-Aaron-Annie-Eden-and-Bone-the-dog at least once a day, but their pleas were much less urgent. They’d be fine, too.
Karol might not be fine, she was starting to realize as the manic mama feelings tumbled in her stomach. There was none of Rob’s confidence to settle it. The clump of ground beef slid easily into the bag, but scrubbing the floor proved harder. Everything seeme
d harder. Had the past ten years been a dream? Had she ever had Hope’s consistency or Rob’s calmness? She’d thought so until the moving van took her best friend away. Could she be a good mom without Hope?
The question that sprang from her heart in response took Karol’s breath away:
The question is, can you be a good mom without Me?
The ceiling fan whirred above Rob slowly, breathing the first breath of summer into his upstairs bedroom. Though it was only April by the calendar, summer was always a breath away in Tallahassee, drowned only by the rains that began in October and trickled through spring. The bright, hot victory of summer retaking her throne usually happened on a May morning, but on this night in late April, Rob felt the humidity that signaled the rise of the order of the sun.
Usually, he welcomed summer. It meant more time outdoors with fresh earth and the soft, brown skin of his wife and children. In the northern Florida sun—which often seemed to have the red, patient glow of the peachy rays of southern Georgia—nothing could be hidden or covered up. In the end, sweat and sweet tea trickled into everything, seeping between the finest fabrics, the best of plans. By summer’s end, there was never anything left unknown.
Not without a price.
As Rob slipped from his king-size bed and stepped onto the still-cool cherrywood floor that he’d installed with his own hands, he wondered if the price would not turn out to be higher than his marriage could afford to pay.
He took the phone into the bathroom, thankful that Karol slept like a log, especially on hot nights like this with the smell of crepe myrtle syrupy and sweet in the air. For once, though, he almost wished she’d wake up and overhear his conversation, saving him from being torn between his best friend…and the love of his life.
Rob’s fingers eased quickly over the phone’s keypad. Though his friend had been gone for weeks now, Singh’s cell phone number still stuck in Rob’s head like a familiar song.
Singh picked up on the first ring, probably in his bathroom, too. “Hello? Rob?”
A sigh. “It’s me. Did you tell her yet? Hope, I mean?”
His friend didn’t answer which was an answer in itself.
“You’re killing me here, man. Kaye is going crazy. Today was really rough. On the kids, too. Weekends are the worst. At least they have school now, but that’s only for another month and Mia’s here all the time—”
“Forgive me.”
The words made Rob swallow hard. How many times had he called this number and said the same phrase in the past ten years? He and Singh were prayer partners, accountable to one another in their walk with God, their actions as fathers and husbands. So many times they’d both fallen short of being the men they wanted to be, but one of them had always been there to hear, to believe, to pray.
When the tables turned a few years ago and Singh was the one calling Rob asking for prayer, it had been strange at first. Though theirs had been a great friendship, Rob had always felt himself to be the student and Singh the teacher. He’d had to address his own sin of holding Singh up to a standard of perfection no man could meet. It hadn’t been easy to get over, though, and sometimes Rob still wondered if he wasn’t harder on Singh than he might have been toward some stranger who’d walked into the men’s ministry group asking for prayer. And yet, those two words—forgive me—reminded Rob of his own humanity and weakness. He was no better than his friend. No better at all.
Forgive me, Lord, Rob whispered in his heart. Forgive us all.
“All is forgiven, brother. I love you. I’m just worried that this is going to turn bad for both of us if we don’t do what we agreed upon. We were both supposed to tell our wives by now. True enough, you have more to tell and it won’t be easy, but we both know it has to be done.”
“Yes.”
More than a minute went by without speaking, but Rob wasn’t worried. He knew that Singh was praying. He was, too.
Karol stirred in the next room.
“I’m going to have to go, man.”
“Yes. Me, too. Quickly, though. How is it with the neighbors? The man, Neal? I know that the girls are worried about the wife, but I had a good feeling about him. Both of them. The same feeling I had when the two of you came.”
In the dark of the bathroom, Rob nodded to himself. Though the new neighbors weren’t very friendly, and his wife wasn’t very fond of them, he had a feeling that somehow they would all end up as friends. What worried him was the future of their relationship with Hope and Singh.
“I hope we did the right thing.”
Singh grunted in agreement. “As do I.”
To-Do
Map a jog route
Consult with landscapers about new yard design
Order new stove
Find a hairstylist
E-mail author press kits to Julie for the Fall tours
Find another person to travel with us on the Fallon Gray tour (in case I’m pregnant)
Check with Publishers Weekly on faith fiction showcase
Get PDA repaired and order a backup
Order Neal’s supplements online—look for local supplier—not budgeted!
Call sorority regional office to see about getting Fallon a table at national conference
Talk to neighbors about toys in their backyard—fence options
Get pregnant!
—Dyanne, Move-in day
Chapter Two
“I still can’t believe he came over to help.” Dyanne stared out her side window, watching her new neighbor, Rob, amble back to his house, head high and smiling after helping them paint for the second day. Was he whistling?
Gimme a break.
“Look at him, Neal. I’m expecting him to start skipping any minute. He’s like the black version of Pa from Little House on the Prairie.” She shook her head and moved away from the window. Moving back to Tallahassee, Florida, where the two of them had attended the prestigious business school at Florida A & M University, had been Dyanne’s idea. Buying this house had been her husband Neal’s thing. She’d gone along, even getting excited as the plans came together, but those people next door had her worried. All those kids of theirs were going to scare her husband right off her pregnancy timetable.
Neal passed Dyanne, heaving a footlocker full of her shoes into their bedroom. He brushed past her, muscles tight against his T-shirt. Her heart fluttered a little, but her head gently reminded her that ovulation was a few days away. Best to build up to that.
His arms enveloped her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Who knew sweat could be so sexy? Maybe that ovulation stuff was overrated. Hadn’t she read something about getting pregnant if you ovulated after an “event”? Anyway, there was always tomorrow….
“Rob’s cool. He’s different, sure, but that’s what I like about him. The guy seems real somehow. He reminds me of your dad, actually.”
Dyanne froze. Her husband’s embrace suddenly seemed like a prison. Her father had the same demeanor as Rob, but beneath it there was nothing but deceit. “I knew there was something about him I didn’t like,” she said, tugging off her pumps one at a time before placing them carefully in one of the shoe boxes in the corner. There were matching boxes lining the wall of the living room and in the closet…and on the stairs. “I have a lot of shoes, don’t I?”
Neal smiled. “Enough to make Imelda Marcos jealous, but you’re not getting off that easy. Your dad is a good guy. Just because things didn’t work out between your parents doesn’t mean you have to hate him forever. You’re grown now. To love him doesn’t mean you love your mother any less.”
She tugged at her skirt zipper while walking toward the kitchen. She heard Neal padding behind, pausing to grab a banana on the way. Leg cramps probably. Good enough for him, talking to her about her father that way. What would Neal know about it, with his Leave it to Beaver family? She swallowed her anger, wondering instead how many e-mails she’d missed since coming here. She had to get that PDA fixed immediately.
Her husband caugh
t up to her, kissing her cheek, then her nose.
She turned away, still fumbling with her skirt clasp. “Can you send my PDA in for repair by FedEx tomorrow?”
His hands circled her waist, unsnapping the metal fitting. Her skirt fell to the floor. He lifted her onto the counter. “You’re officially unplugged, Dee, at least for this week. You’ve been touring with authors for the past six months. This will be the first month we’ve been in the same city for more than a few days since Christmas.
“Heather is taking care of things. If she needs you, she’ll call. You need to be reading that stack of books for the new imprint and devising a marketing plan. I’ll be your pool boy and bring you latte, but for now, the PDA is out of bounds.”
So is talking about my father.
Dyanne looked up her husband, running the tip of her nail over his shoulders, staring into the honey that was his eyes. Those eyes had been with her since sixth grade, when Neal moved into the house next door. “Four boys,” her father had said at breakfast. “Can you imagine?”
She couldn’t imagine. Thoughts of blaring music and a street full of junk cars kept Dyanne and her mother from sleeping until a boy showed up at the door with a basket of scones and a pitcher of tea. Wearing a tie and khakis fresh from St. Mary’s Academy for Boys, Neal had leaned over and kissed her cheek, saying he’d be back the next day for the pitcher. That night, Dyanne had added Neal’s last name to hers in her journal, despite her mother’s warnings against such things.
Tonight, looking into those eyes, everything she’d ever wanted stared back at her. Well, almost everything. She clasped her hands around his neck.
He kissed her fingers. “I’m glad we bought this house. And I’m glad you were assigned to the Grace Pages imprint. I started one of those books this morning. A reissue. Your dad gave me the original version when we were dating. I wasn’t ready for it then, but it seems right this time.” He kissed her cheek, then her mouth…He stopped. “That’s what I forgot. I meant to ask Rob about their church.”
Mom's the Word Page 2
