“What on earth were you and Beth doing tonight? I thought that the neighbors would call. Sounded like you were killing her in there.”
“Girl stuff.”
Ted chuckled. “Girl stuff is loud. Hey, GKI called, they’re going to have a booth in the street fair next Sunday, wanted to know if you’d bake something.”
Carole twisted to eye him, and Ted seemed to lose his train of thought. He ran a thumb over her cheek. “You have magnificent skin. It still looks like an eighteen-year-old’s. Not a single wrinkle. The Minister thought you were Beth’s big sister.”
“GKI?”
Ted teased, “Church. You didn’t get that?”
“I could make my bread I suppose. You like it.”
“Oh, yeah, I like your bread. That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll have Bethy help me bake a cake too.”
“That I want to see,” she teased in turn, running a hand along his neck she dipped it inside his collar, heading for his chest and the heart that beckoned.
The phone rang. Ted leaned to get it, twisting away before Carole could make contact with her goal.
“That’s probably them again,” he excused.
“Hello? Hello?” He waited several seconds and then hung up. It rang again, and Ted’s eyes swung to Carole’s. “Surely not! You just got back. It’s only been a few days!”
It continued to ring, and she reached for it. Ted grabbed her arm. “Don’t. Just don’t answer and they’ll get someone else.”
“Ted, when have I ever gotten an extra month? It will probably be short.”
“When have they ever been short? Carole, I hate your job.”
“You did recommend me for it.”
“There was little choice at the time,” he growled. The phone continued to ring.
“How does it differ from what you do? The only difference between us is that you decide at a desk, or a meeting, or a party, what needs to be done, and I’m the grunt who does what needs done.” Carole picked up the ringing phone. Ted disentangled himself from her, shut off the TV and went down the hall to their room, slamming the bedroom door.
KISSING YOUR DAD goodbye in front of school at nearly fourteen-years-old was the kiss of death for slumber parties. Beth knew that, but she sat in the car and kissed and hugged her Daddy. Mom had left again and he was really sad this time. The truth was she was sad too. It was hard to get out of the car and walk towards that school. Part of her wished she could go back and tell Dad what had happened. He’d let her change schools, she was certain of it. He’d also probably call the police, and go visit the boy’s parents and—Beth noticed the hum of interested voices around her then. Louder than the general hum of Monday morning conversation. She straightened her uniform and peeked over the crowd of heads to see what the fuss was, almost afraid that it was just her, freaky tall, on Monday morning.
It wasn’t. Wuan Cho came across the school yard. He wasn’t moving with his usual cool grace. He half-limped. Both his eyes were swollen and black and blue. His long cool hair looked weird, bald in spots and sticking straight up in places. A shiver slid up Beth’s spine as Wuan neared her. Some of his hair looked like it’d been pulled out. His scalp looked red and sore and torn in spots. What had happened to him? Someone else wondered that same question out loud. Wuan swore at them, and Beth thought two of his pretty front teeth were missing. She couldn’t get close enough to know for sure because when she moved closer, he walked faster. It didn’t seem like a coincidence.
Beth swung around, eyes searching for Daddy’s departing vehicle. It was already out of sight. Had Mom told Dad? Dad worked for the marines—would marines do that? Would Dad ask them to? She didn’t think marines would do that to a boy. Another thought occurred to Beth—who had taught Mom to fight? Did Mom ask someone to do that to Wuan Cho? A shiver rippled up Beth’s long spine. When people asked, Mom said she worked at the United Nations. Beth never asked her about it because she already knew. Mom lied.
I AM NOT going to be a freak. I am not going to be a freak. The first day of college and Beth’s mind raced, repeating the words. Not being a freak seemed a simple enough mantra. She piled books in her arms, Business, Economics, Political Science, and one on Botany. Scanning the book store it was apparent she was again the tallest. Why couldn’t Daddy get transferred to some Nordic country for pity’s sake? They’d once lived briefly in South Africa, but she’d been so little it didn’t count as a tall country. A nice looking, dark-skinned Mexican cut the line to stand beside her. He had heart throb good looks, and those black eyes she adored! Beth’s mind raced. Really, I could swim in them, naked preferably. And muscles, Oh my gosh he is ripped. I’d pay to have a look at those abs.
He smiled with white on white teeth and said, “You’re lost in thought. What are you worrying about, Economics class?” He patted that book in her arms.
Beth flushed beet red because she knew her idiot answer approached. She could feel it. And here it came, “No, I wasn’t worrying, just thinking I’d pay to look at your naked abs.” Stupid lived in her mouth, and it really liked to come outside and have a romp around. The kid’s perfect dark brows rose, and he looked at her as though trying to place the signs of mental malfunction that he had previously missed. He waved at someone imaginary across the room and excused himself. I am a social half-wit, Beth thought, wishing she could die on command. I wonder if a doctor would remove my vocal chords. I’ll bet some doctor here in Mexico would do it. I read some doctor here gave a woman plastic surgery to look like a cat.
A guy with the potential to create beautiful children cut in line, interrupting her random thoughts. He smiled and said, “What’s new?”
“My books,” Beth’s mouth blurted because she had no control over the damn thing. The kid forced a laugh. She knew it was a tribute to the good looks she’d inherited from her mother when he stuck around long enough to try again.
“Do you like to dance?”
“Yes!” She bellowed, thrilled to be able to answer a normal question in a normal manner. “I like to dance!”
“Cool. Where do you like to go dancing?”
“In the kitchen with my father.” Kill me, Dear God, just take me now. I can hear you laughing. I know I am your plaything. The guy darted, not even bothering with the polite wave to an imaginary friend.
Beth bit her lip. There were ways around this, and she’d been practicing them. Run away, think before you speak—you can tell the truth without sounding like a complete head injury if you slow down! This was her first day at college and she was nervous. Dad had homeschooled her during her last two years of high school. He said she was too smart to move at the slow pace in high school. Beth knew he was being kind. Though when he’d said it, it hadn’t had that ugly sound of a lie, so he had meant it.
It was just a bit too coincidental, the timing of when her parents had decided to homeschool her. They’d been living in Columbia, and she’d alerted the hall monitors that Molito Haskell’s family owned a cocaine plantation. Dad had been just trying to keep her alive. Mom loved her, she had no doubts about that, but Mom had made it abundantly clear for years that she was ready to let the real world teach her how to control her big fat mouth.
Beth only needed one semester of on-campus courses to finish. She’d managed most of her degree online while wrapping up high school. These last courses demanded attendance on campus. All she had to do was take the classes, pass, and God willing get kissed by at least one boy. Maybe there was a deaf kid on campus. She’d have to ask around.
ECONOMICS WENT WELL. The teacher seemed intelligent and very professional. He passed around the course outline, including the assignments, due dates, and how much of their grade each was worth. The course was facts. Beth loved facts. She’d failed every history class she’d ever taken because she’d found it subjective. Daddy said history was facts too, but Beth knew otherwise. History was someone’s documentation, it had angles and slants and it was not absolute truth. Why couldn’t other people recognize lies and disinf
ormation like she could? At any rate, for Beth, economics rocked.
There was a list of job opportunities posted in the hall and Beth stopped to inquire about working in the library. The librarian spoke only Spanish, and after interviewing Beth briefly, promised her the job on the spot. Beth practically skipped towards her business class.
“Ssst?” The whisper came from behind. Beth glanced at the guy following her, another cutie, a bit tiny for her six-foot height, but definitely kissable. Nice arms. He held up an unlit joint. “Like to get high, Americano?”
“No. I do not.” Beth stomped away. He wasn’t all that cute. He followed, cajoling, offering her a free trial baggie of weed, insisting it was good, inexpensive and always available.
“Look! I don’t like drugs. Take a hike!”
“Don’t be hasty, you don’t use means you’re good for selling it. I grow it myself, good stuff, I don’t use neither. You help me sell I’ll give you 50% profit. No overhead, Blondie. You think on that, you look smart.”
BUSINESS CLASS PROVED promising. Sitting at a table between Hunky One and Hunky Two, Beth decided she loved Mexico and height was highly overrated. None of these men seemed to mind whatsoever that she was freaky tall.
The teacher pulled her thoughts from dark, sexy eyes, as he outlined the curriculum. “The books were a waste of money—I’m sorry about that. I have to hand out something, so I just pick the cheapest one every semester. If you want to pass this class you start a business. I don’t care if you’re selling chocolates door to door, anything. You will give me a business plan, report costs and profits, and if you want an A—you will make a good profit.”
“Does it have to be legal?” someone joked. The kid held fingers up to his lips as though smoking something furtively and most of the class laughed.
“We don’t even kid about that here. So what kind of profit could be made at a school where no one does drugs?”
Beth’s hand shot into the air, and unable to control it she blurted, “50%! If you don’t use it, selling it is highly profitable!”
“YOU HAVE TO learn to control it.” Mom’s blue eyes could look right through her.
“I try! I can’t.” Beth leaned back in the kitchen chair.
“You like it.”
Beth scowled. She didn’t want to admit the truth in that, but Mom knew. Mom always knew. It was beyond annoying. Beth bit a fingernail and looked out the window. Dad had planted flowers in pots on the balcony, bright red geraniums. He always made their apartments homey.
“Why do you bite your nails?”
Beth turned her eyes to her mother and replied slowly, the words unfolding the truth that she hadn’t realized until she said it. “Because it buys me time to think when I’m nervous.”
“Why do you wear make-up?”
“Mom! Don’t!” But Mom just waited and Beth looked over her Mom’s head while she answered, the words tumbling out. “Because it makes guys really notice me.”
“Why do you want guys to notice you?”
“Oh my gosh, Mom! Please?” Beth jumped up and raced down the hallway to blurt the answer loudly in the bathroom. She knew her mother was waiting at the dining room table, so she returned, embarrassed, hoping against hope that her mother hadn’t heard the answer.
“No, I didn’t hear it, but I can assume the gist of it, Beth. You are my daughter after all. I met your father when I was eighteen. I suppose you can do the math on how long after that before you were born.”
“Kill me, Mom. Please don’t tell me about your libido.”
“Don’t be a child. The point is I didn’t actually hear you say it. Do you see? You can control it enough to keep someone from hearing what they shouldn’t. I probably should have done this to you years ago.”
“No.” Beth put her face in her hands. “Because it’s only been lately that I’ve been able to control it even this little bit. Mom, you can’t know what it’s like. I do like to do it! It feels good. I doubt drugs or even—even sex—feels as good as the rush I get when I point out the truth. At least it feels good until the consequences hit. The thing is, Mom, why do I even do it? I’ve read about people who blurt and I don’t fit the demographics. And how do I always know when people are lying? I don’t get it. How do I know what the truth is all the time? Why doesn’t everybody know it? I don’t understand!”
“We all have our cross to bear,” Mom said cryptically. “You just have to learn to control it as best you can, Beth. After that you need to figure out what to do with it. It is a talent, nobody can lie to you. Now what are you going to do with a gift like that?”
CAROLE SLID ONTO clean bed sheets and curled up. There was an ache deep inside her that was sometimes hard to ignore. Lately she’d been watching Ted closely. How could it be that a man with his past could now go month after month without any physical contact? There were no outward signs that he’d been with anybody, and her heart told her he had remained faithful the past six years. She was thankful that he was no longer the toast of every town they lived in, but he hadn’t let her take the place of the women he no longer went with. Not really. Once he’d hit his forties it seemed as though he’d given his affection to red meat and television.
Rolling over, Carole tugged up a sheet. As hot as Mexico City was tonight, the air-conditioning kept her fingers and toes chilled. She sensed Ted hoist himself to his feet and flick the TV off. To her surprise he headed for the bedroom. Hope kindled; it had been so long. Ted slid the door open.
“You’re still up, aren’t you?”
At last! She’d started to think part of him had died very young. Sitting up, she clicked on the bedside lamp. “Wide awake, I can’t sleep.”
“Good.”
Oh, happy day. Carole sensed Beth. She sat at the desk in her bedroom studying. The faint pulse of her hideous music echoed through the wall. The coast was clear.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Ted warned. He went into the bathroom and Carole darted out of bed, yanking her T-shirt over her head. Digging through her dresser drawers she hunted until she found the little slip Beth had given her the Christmas they lived in Thailand. Carole had spent most of her life wearing neutral military colors, but Beth insisted her color was red. Carole stepped in front of the mirror to examine the bit of scarlet silk. It had been crumpled for years, but it was thick, good fabric and it slid over her body in a smooth waterfall without a wrinkle. She dug through a top drawer and located a lipstick Beth had given her recently, made of beeswax and olive oil and red as the slip. Carole sniffed it, it smelled nice. She leaned close to the mirror and swiped it over her lips, and discovered it felt nice too, silky as the slip. Moving back to examine her reflection, she grimaced. Ridiculous. Grabbing a tissue she scrubbed it off, wiping most of it away. Consoling herself, she fluffed the messy hair she still cut herself. It was her one feature that Beth approved of, at least Carole thought Beth approved. She always said, “It’s you Mom. Don’t change it.” Hmmm.
Ted finished brushing his teeth and Carole darted across the tile floor and jumped into the bed, trying to arrange herself so she looked nonchalant. Not that Ted would buy that. In all their marriage she’d worn lingerie only—well, this was the first time. She was probably a pretty crummy wife. No wonder he didn’t want to—the bathroom door swung open, and Ted reached for the main light switch.
“Don’t shut it off,” Carole pleaded. She hadn’t seen Ted without his usual uniform or dress pants and shirt in ages. He stood across the room in his boxers and T-shirt, and she wanted to memorize this. It might be a long time—
“I guess I’m getting self-conscious, you’re still so fit.”
He had to be joking. “Ted, you’re gorgeous.”
“I’m almost fifty.”
Ted at forty-eight stood as straight and broad shouldered as he’d been at thirty-one. Now he wore his hair in a buzz cut, in a nod to the conformity of the Marine Corp that he’d bucked for so many years. He was thicker around the middle now, even in his thighs and arms, but Car
ole loved every inch. She would have launched herself out of the bed and started their night on the edge of the dresser, if he would have gone for it. Ted had gotten more conservative with every passing year. His list of acceptable lovemaking had narrowed considerably.
Carole knelt on the mattress, reaching a hand out towards him. “Do fifty-year-old men have any idea how appealing they are?”
“What made you put that on?” The word hope flitted through Carole’s mind. Ted added, “I just wanted to talk to you about the next university Beth wants to go to.”
Carole dropped to sit. He wanted to talk about Beth. What would happen to them when Beth was gone and living her own life?
“Do you mean the University in Athens?”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about maybe taking early retirement.”
“But I thought you loved your job.”
Ted leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his broad chest, clearly angry. “That was a long time ago, before they started transferring me around the world every six months. I’m sick of it, so I thought I could retire, maybe do some consulting work now and then.”
“If that’s what you want to do, I think you should do it.”
“I got to thinking about the consulting work. You can choose wherever in the world you want to consult from, everyone does it. When I asked about doing it myself, they said I couldn’t.”
It was inevitable that he’d figure it out. Ted must have been kidding himself if he thought the transfers over the years had anything to do with his job. Then again how could he know where she’d been working? She’d been very careful those times she did manage to sneak home to catch a glimpse of them. Not even Beth ever realized how close her mother often was.
“It occurred to me that the last fifteen years hasn’t been me dragging you and Beth around the planet. It’s you dragging us, but I guess you knew that.” Ted glared, pacing angrily back and forth in front of the bathroom door.
Heartless A Shieldmaiden's Voice: A Covenant Keeper Novel Page 27
