“We love our hair, Shelby. Thanks for taking us.”
“It looks great, girls. I know your dad is going to like it, too.”
I can’t believe the difference in their appearance. Taylor and Saylor have nothing on these girls now.
We walk in the door and into the kitchen. Mrs. Stratton turns around and drops the bowl she’s holding. It’s a good thing it was plastic, but there are plenty of spaghetti noodles stuck to the floor.
“What has happened to their hair?” Mrs. Stratton can’t take her eyes off the girls.
I bet she hasn’t even noticed the noodles.
“Doesn’t it look great? They wanted to surprise their dad.”
“Surprise will be the understatement of the year. Decade.”
“We had his permission. He just doesn’t know what style they picked.”
“We’re gonna go look in the mirror.” Team Twin runs down the hall, leaving me with a befuddled housekeeper. I grab a paper towel and start cleaning up the noodles.
Mrs. Stratton continues to stare at me. “I don’t believe it. He gave you permission to take them to cut their hair?”
Grabbing another paper towel, I bend down and continue to do her job. “He did. Why does this surprise you so much? It was always a mess. Besides, they are donating the hair to Locks of Love. That’s what’s in the bags on the counter. We’re going to print off the forms and send it tomorrow.”
Mrs. Stratton finally regains some of her composure, and she sets the plastic colander she had dropped in the sink. “I’ll have to boil more noodles,” she mumbles, filling a pan with water. “This is the last thing I thought I’d ever see. That hair was their prized possession. Mr. Treyhune loved that hair. Again, I’m amazed at the transformation of that man. Thought I’d never see the day he let them cut their hair.”
I toss the noodles I’ve scooped up into the trash then wash my hands. I dig my phone out of my purse and call up the text I sent to Court. “Here. See for yourself. He said it was fine.”
Acting like she doesn’t want to read it, but peering closer she squints, then squints again. “Says here the girls want to buy hair for kids with cancer. Where’s the text about cutting the hair.”
My heart starts beating extremely rapidly. I turn the phone around and scroll up. No. We are on the right text. I look at it. And look again.
Girls want to buy hair for kids with cancer.
Then his text, Sure. Sounds great.
Buy hair.
Cut hair.
Auto correct has possibly ruined my life.
I mean, I don’t think Court will be that upset about the hair, regardless of what Mrs. Stratton thinks, but I think he should have been in on the decision making.
I tried.
Surely he will see this situation for what it is.
A misunderstanding.
After all, it is hair.
It will grow back.
And the kids are doing something great by donating their hair.
I slip my phone back in my purse not worried at all.
“HE’S HOME!”
Bristol’s voice screams down the hall way. I haven’t told them about the texting mix-up. They’ll be thrilled it’s going to be a surprise.
“Girls. Like we planned. Go in the living room and wait for me to say the word surprise. Hurry.” I motion them toward the living room as I hear the garage door going back down.
It’s almost eight o’clock. Mrs. Stratton tried to think of many reasons to stick around and “witness the carnage,” as she put it, but finally she had to agree there was no good reason for her to stay.
Court had texted saying he was working late with Jared, making sure all the accounts had been updated with new passwords. They also looked for any more signs of money missing but hadn’t found anything else.
He walks down the hall and looks around as he reaches me. I nod toward the living room indicating the girls are in there. I know he wants to kiss me, but doesn’t.
Just like I want to kiss him and I refuse to entertain the thought that it might be my last kiss after he sees the girls hair.
“Why don’t you have a seat right here?” I point to the bar stool. “Your girls have something they want to show you. It’s a surprise.”
I voice the last word loudly, and they come into the room, not running like I thought, but they are almost sheepishly entering, like they may have heard Mrs. Stratton’s carnage talk.
I keep my gaze on Court to gauge his reaction.
I wish I hadn’t.
Mrs. Stratton knows that of which she speaks.
MYSTERY
“ARE YOU MAD, Daddy?” Bristol’s voice has lost all the excitement it’s had the past few hours.
She sees his eyes as well.
They are burning with anger.
Burning.
He smiles and it’s so fake I want to wipe it off. “You girls are beautiful. That’s a nice style. Like your friend next door. Phoebe, right?”
“Yes. We even went to her stylist.” Darling walks to the counter and picks up one of the bags. “Here’s my hair, Daddy. It’s going to make a little girl with cancer be able to have some hair.”
“Here’s mine,” Bristol adds, shoving her bag into his hands. “Mommy would like that we did this, wouldn’t she?”
I can’t read Court anymore. He’s a mixture of anger, hurt, surprise, disbelief. Just like this morning.
Texting was a great idea. I just needed to text the right word.
I know now if I had texted the word cut, the answer would have been no. We might have been able to work on him for a couple of weeks and changed his mind, but this is an absolute disaster.
“Shelby is going to print off the forms from the computer and we’re going to fill them out. Then she’s going to take us to the post office. We’re doing the whole thing by ourselves. Are you proud of us, Daddy?”
Court can’t take his gaze off the girls. He keeps touching their hair. “I am very proud of you girls. Now I need to talk to Shelby for a few minutes, so why don’t you go back and watch a movie.”
He places the bags of hair on the counter and stands to give them a hug. “Actually, it’s kind of late. Get ready for bed, find a movie, and I’ll be back in a little while to tuck you in.”
“Okay.” They hug Court before coming over to hug me. Their eyes search mine, like they know something isn’t quite right. I give them a huge smile. “You girls look simply fabulous with your new hair. See you tomorrow.”
Court nods to the living room as the girls walk down the hall to their bedrooms. I follow Court, unsure of everything I’ve been sure of these last few days.
Once again, everything has changed, only this time it’s not for the better.
When we reach the living room, he turns. “You had no right,” he says, shaking his head, “to do that.”
“I texted. The wrong word, but I texted. Auto-correct is not my friend today.” I smile, try to laugh, but the situation doesn’t lend itself to anything humorous.
“Buying hair for kids with cancer is one thing. Cutting their hair off is another.”
I reach out to touch him, but he backs up. My heart lurches, and I find it hard to swallow. Something is very off here. “Look. This is a mix-up. A bad one, but a mix-up nonetheless. Their hair will grow back. Fast probably.”
“It’s not about the hair.”
He voices the words I was afraid to think.
“I know.”
“With everything that happened today, everything that has been happening, the one constant I had was knowing the girls were their mother’s daughters. They look like her. Act like her. As the days go by, it seems like they are the only good thing that has come from me marrying MaryLeigh. Is it too much for me to want them to stay like they are for a little while?”
As he speaks, he continues to put even more distance between us, like his words aren’t doing enough damage. My heart is breaking into a million pieces, each one reminding me of a strand o
f tangled hair that has become my life.
I tried to fix it, but it’s not mine to fix. “I’ve apologized. I can’t uncut their hair. I can only tell you that I love you, that I would never do anything to hurt you, and that it breaks my heart to know you aren’t ready to love again.”
“That’s not true.” He still doesn’t move, staying across the room from me. “I am ready. There are just some aspects of my life I don’t want to change for now.”
“This is about MaryLeigh and how she influenced the girls. But their tangled hair can’t replace what you’ve lost. I see now MaryLeigh wasn’t who you thought she was. That is evident, especially after what we found out today. But I thought that maybe this could be the beginning of something new. Something for us. I see now you’d rather live in the past when it comes to some things.”
I walk out of the room hoping he will follow me.
I make it all the way to my room, let myself in and shut the door. His footsteps start down the hall, but they pass by my room and turn into the girls’ rooms.
Minutes later I hear him walk past my room.
I knew he would.
No matter how much faith I have in us, if he doesn’t have any this thing will never work.
Court may have told me he loved me, but he’s still in love with something else.
Not someone, but something.
The idea of the wife he thought he had married.
FIVE O’CLOCK COMES early and I put on my running clothes. I tighten my visor and make sure my shoelaces are tied tightly. I look around the room one more time making sure I have everything.
It takes two trips to haul my things to the end of the driveway because I don’t want to wake anyone by dragging my luggage down the hall. The cab I called should be here any minute. I write a note for the girls and leave it on the counter along with a note to Mrs. Stratton with Phoebe’s number. I tell her the girls can probably play over there part of the day until they can find another nanny.
I sit in the back of the cab as it drives away in the dark gray of the Florida morning, knowing that it’s what I have to do. I don’t want to leave.
But I must.
The mystery of who MaryLeigh was, or wasn’t, will continue to haunt Court until he decides to break free from the past.
I can’t give my heart to a man who doesn’t have room in his for anything more than a broken dream. I get that the broken dream lives there.
I’d like to squeeze in and help heal the scars it left behind.
But he won’t let me.
So I’ll go.
I hate leaving Team Twin without saying goodbye, but I promised we’d Skype soon.
Court? I didn’t leave a note because I didn’t leave him.
He left me.
MARRIED
AUGUST IS HOT in Georgia, and it’s even hotter on the steps of the porch of the trailer that Mama and Daddy live in.
Oh, and I’m living here with them for another couple of weeks until my apartment is available again. Daddy still hasn’t gotten over the fact that he’ll never get that introduction to Cal Treyhune that Court promised him over the Fourth of July weekend.
Mama knew right away this was a matter of the heart and not a matter of a job.
She’s always been cool like that. Mama hasn’t been nosy, but she let me know if I ever needed to talk she’d be there to listen.
I haven’t wanted to talk yet.
Barb also has no less than three jobs lined up for me that are available whenever I’m ready to work.
I haven’t been ready to do that either.
It’s a shame to admit I’ve been hashing out this Court thing over and over in my mind. Jared called me once, but I didn’t take the call. He didn’t leave a message and that was fine by me.
Court?
He hasn’t called once. And it’s been over three weeks.
Three weeks of misery for me.
But I think the worst of it is over.
I’m on the upswing now and am feeling okay.
Not fine or good, mind you, but just okay.
It’s a step up from miserable and melancholy.
Some of the kids from the trailer park are running around playing tag. I like watching them. They remind me of the crazy days with Team Twin. I can finally think about them without tearing up. I’m going to Skype them soon, but I haven’t had the guts to do so yet.
I also never finished that homeschooling project Court had me working on. I’m sure he’s got all that figured out now.
At least Jared doesn’t have to worry about me taking his job.
The kids start running again, but they are all running in the same direction. Toward the road.
Oh, there’s a car coming.
Probably somebody they don’t know. They’re kind of scary when a stranger invades their space.
I should know. They surrounded my car the first few times I came in here. Now they’re used to me.
Sometimes the younger ones wave.
Sometimes the older ones give me the finger.
Either way I smile and drive slowly to my parents’ driveway.
This car is driving really slow and the kids are pointing excitedly. Must be a nice car.
As the car comes fully into view I realize it’s not just a nice car, it’s a limo. A big, black, sleek limo.
And it stops in front of my parents’ trailer.
My heart starts to beat faster.
The driver gets out, walks to the door and opens it. A lady steps out, then a man.
I put my hand over my chest as I realize it’s Court’s parents.
His parents?
Cal and Vera Treyhune are here?
They walk up the short walkway to where I’m sitting. I run my hand down my plain pink T-shirt and push my hand through hair that I haven’t washed in two days.
Or brushed for that matter. “Hi,” I say.
“Hello there, young lady with the darn good name. Shelby. It’s good to see you.”
Cal looks good. He looks like the guy I have seen on the television screen. Strong, commanding. A far cry from the man I saw in North Carolina on Father’s Day.
I want to scream “why are you here?” But I don’t. I try to stay calm and keep it cool. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world for them to show up at my parents’ trailer on any given day. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Hi, honey,” Vera says.
“Hi.” I wave at her, now becoming nervous at their visit. Is something wrong? Are the twins okay?
Cal clears his throat. “Vera and I have come for two reasons. First, Court told me he promised your papa that we’d meet someday. Well, today’s the day. Is he home?”
“Yes, sir, he is. Let me get him.” I start up the stairs, then hit my forehead with my hand. I turn back and face Cal and Vera. “I’m sorry. How rude. Would you like to come in?”
Cal smiles. “That will be fine.”
My hand shakes slightly as I pull the screen door open. “Daddy, there’s somebody here to see you.”
I don’t even know how we made it through the next hour. I thought Mama was going to shoot me for inviting strangers in, and then Dad about fell out, literally back into his chair, when he realized it was Cal Treyhune that had interrupted his episode of Dr. Phil.
Dr. Phil was forgotten immediately and replaced with conversation that didn’t stop until Mama asked anyone if they wanted a drink. After glasses of sweet tea were poured and given out, the conversation resumed again like everyone was old friends.
Finally there is a lull in the conversation and Cal looks at me. “Shelby, girl. I told you earlier we came here for two reasons. Do you want to know what the second reason is?”
“That would be nice. You’ve had me on the edge of my seat for the past hour,” I joke.
Half joke.
I’ve been sitting here for the last hour trying to figure out the other reason he and Vera showed up here in a limo at my parents’ trailer.
A trai
ler much like the one they started out in, they told my parents.
Cal waves his hand toward the door. “Go on out to the limo and look in the back seat.”
“Right now?”
“No, tomorrow. Of course right now. Scoot. We’ll wait here.”
I set my glass of tea down and walk out the door, still barefoot, still wearing my cutoffs and my plain tee.
The closer I get to the limo, the more nervous I become.
Is it a present from the girls?
From Court?
As I approach the big, black, shiny limo, the driver steps out. His expression doesn’t give anything away. He simply walks to the door and places his hand on the handle, like he’s waiting for me to approach before he opens it.
The limo is so quiet I barely notice it’s still running. When the driver opens the door, a blast of cool air hits me.
“You can get in, miss. I think someone is expecting you.”
More confused than ever, and grateful for the cool air, I climb into the limo. At first I don’t see anything, but I do smell Court’s clean scent.
And then I see him.
Sitting on the side seat, smiling.
I slink into the back seat not believing he’s been sitting out here for over an hour.
“Hi.”
With one word he has my heart missing him all over again.
“Hi.” I swallow hard wondering how his heart feels.
“I’ve missed you.”
His words fall on me like they can change things. But they can’t. Simply missing someone isn’t enough to make a life together. Do I dare admit that I’ve missed him? Just like his words can’t change anything, mine can’t either. “I’ve missed you, too.”
I watch his reaction to my words but am unprepared for the magnitude of his smile. His smile makes my heart flip at the possibilities of why he is here.
Why he seems so happy and carefree.
Carefree?
Set free?
I refuse to think he’s here for any other reason than chaperoning his parents. Because if I do, my slightly put-back-together heart might break into more tiny pieces. Pieces so tiny they can never possibly be reconstructed.
Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3) Page 21
