“Um, thanks. Is that what you wanted to say to me?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Easter. It’s coming up about three weeks from now.”
Carl laughed. “I remember Easter, Reverend. I’m not that far gone.”
“Good to hear it. My prayers are working then. The thing is, the church should really look picture-perfect on Easter Sunday. I mean, as close as you can get it. I know we’ve let things go around here. But I’ve seen what you can do in just a week. I have a feeling you’ll pull it all together beautifully.”
Carl looked pleased by his praise, Ben thought, but also as if he now felt a bit of pressure.
“Well, I’ll do what I can, I guess. It depends on what you have in mind. This is a pretty old building, Reverend.”
“That it is. There’s always something in need of repair. The first church was built here, oh, around 1660. Right after the town was founded. It was just clapboard, and at some point, it burned down. This church was built to replace it in the early 1800s. They say right after it was finished a huge blizzard hit, and the minister was trapped inside for a week with only a bag of clams. He came out promising he’d never eat a clam again.”
“I can believe that.” Carl grinned and looked up at the church steeple. “The place sure could use a coat of paint. But I don’t know how my leg will hold up on a ladder all that time.”
“Painting wasn’t even on the list. It’s a good suggestion, though. Maybe during the summer we can get to that, when your leg is feeling better. I guess I’m talking more about a general sprucing up—waxing the floors, some new varnish on the pews, cleaning the windows, that sort of thing. You could paint just the front doors, I suppose.”
“Sure, I can do that. You just write it all down, and I’ll get to work on it.”
“All right, I will. I’ll see you later then.” Ben nodded at Carl and continued walking down the path that ran along the side of the church.
When he reached the side door, he turned and looked back. Carl stood by the ladder, carefully stirring the unctuous black mixture in the can. Dressed in his painter’s cap, coveralls, and sweatshirt, he looked like any workman, starting off his day, focusing on the task he’d been set, putting interest and heart into the work of his hands.
That was good, Ben thought. Carl had come to this place a rootless wanderer with no purpose or direction. Now he was evolving into something else altogether.
MOLLY HAD NOT SPOKEN TO MATTHEW IN A WEEK, NOT SINCE THE night she’d gone out to the airport to pick up her parents. He had left a message on her machine on Wednesday, but she didn’t call him back. That was amazing to her, when she stopped to think about it. She figured he was calling to apologize, and she hadn’t been ready at the time to talk to him about their confrontation.
But now it was Friday night. Amanda was coming for a sleepover, and Molly knew she had to face him.
Amanda walked in, toting her duffel bag and looking as relaxed as if she lived there. “Hi, Molly. Sorry I’m late. Dad got stuck at the office.”
“That’s okay, honey. Lauren’s waiting for you. She’s in her room.”
Amanda sauntered off, and Molly was left alone with Matthew. He stood in the doorway, looking hesitant. He looked handsome, too, she couldn’t help noticing, dressed in a gray suit and blue shirt with an expensive-looking silk tie that hung loose around his neck.
“Would you like to come in for some coffee or something?” Molly asked politely.
“Uh, no thanks.” He smiled, looking uneasy. “I have to get over to the hospital and check on a patient.”
“Oh, sure.” Molly nodded. She felt nervous seeing him again but glad at the same time. It was strange. She had expected to still be mad at him, yet she wasn’t.
“I need to pick up Amanda on the early side tomorrow. We have to drive out to Worcester for a family party. My dad’s going to be seventy.”
“How nice. That’s a big event.”
“My mother seems to think so,” he noted with a laugh.
“What time would you like to pick her up?”
“About nine? I promised we would be there in time to help set up. Oh, she has a special outfit to wear in that hanging bag. I’m sure she’ll remember. But just in case.”
“I’ll do my best.” Molly had to smile. “You know how they are. I can barely get them to go to sleep before sunrise.”
“Sure, I understand. Let her have a good time. She can sleep more in the car.”
“I’ll set a few alarm clocks,” she promised. “That usually works.”
“Oh, sure. Good idea.”
He smiled back at her, looking as if he wanted to say something more, something important.
She didn’t know what to do. He didn’t seem to be leaving, but he didn’t seem to be staying, either.
“It’s good to see you,” he said finally.
“Um . . . thanks. It’s nice to see you.”
Another long awkward pause. Now he was staring at the carpet in the hallway. He was driving her crazy. She wanted to just shake him, but she didn’t have the nerve, of course.
Finally, he looked up at her again. “Listen, Molly . . . I tried to call you this week. Maybe you didn’t get the message or something.”
“Oh, right.” She felt instantly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I was in such a rush this week, I guess I forgot to get back to you.”
“That’s okay. I just wanted to apologize again for the other night. What I said to you about Phil—I should have never spoken to you like that. I’m truly sorry if I hurt your feelings. I know you’re just trying to do what’s best for the girls.”
She didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t want to start imagining things again, but it really seemed as if he’d been thinking about this a lot. Thinking about her.
“It’s okay, Matt. I have to admit I was a little miffed at you. Well, a lot miffed. I nearly broke the sound barrier driving down to Logan,” she admitted with a small smile. “But a funny thing happened this week. Phil did it again. He called on Wednesday, which isn’t his night, and asked to take the girls to his mother’s house for dinner. I nearly said no, just on principle. Then I looked at the way Lauren and Jill were staring at me, and I said okay.”
“You did?” Matthew looked surprised.
It had taken a few days of licking her wounds, but she realized there was some truth to what Matthew told her. When she took a good look at Lauren and Jill’s sullen faces, she knew that she had to lighten up on their father.
“Even if Phil hasn’t really changed, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. At least, I have to try. And you were right. I have to stop reacting to him the way I did seven years ago.” She shook her head and grinned at him. “For one thing, it’s not very attractive to get hysterical all the time.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he joked. “I like to be around women who can really express their emotions.”
“That was diplomatic,” Molly said with a laugh.
“Well, it’s true. . . . I like to be around you, right?”
She met his warm gaze, then looked away, a firm grip on the doorknob. She hoped he couldn’t tell that she suddenly needed the solid support.
“Mom, did you order the pizza yet? We’re totally starving.” Feeling dazed, Molly turned around to find Lauren, Amanda, and Jill staring at her.
“In a minute. I’ll be right there,” she promised. She turned back to Matthew, feeling three sets of eyes boring into her back.
“I guess I’d better order the pizza.”
“Looks like you might have a mutiny on your hands otherwise. Well, good night. See you tomorrow,” he said lightly. “Good night, Amanda,” he called to his daughter.
“Good night, Dad. What are you still doing here anyway?”
“Just talking to Molly.” Molly glanced at him, noticing the color suddenly rise in his cheeks. She was totally charmed.
Matthew disappeared down the hallway, and Molly shut the door with a sigh. She wished
she had time to sit and analyze his behavior, word by word, look by look, hitting the mental replay button freely. But that would have to wait. Right now, she had to order a pizza and referee a sleepover.
MOLLY WOKE TO THE ANNOYING BUZZ OF HER ALARM CLOCK. SHE peered at it with one eye and slapped the off button. It was Saturday. She didn’t need to get up. She closed her eyes, instantly falling back to sleep again. Until a second alarm clock went off on the other side of the bed. She scrambled toward it like a crab, scuttling under the sheets, then realized Jill was sleeping in her bed, hidden under the blankets. She must have wandered in during the middle of the night, probably to escape the teenage talk fest in the other bedroom.
Molly reached over her and grabbed the second alarm clock, amazed that Jill didn’t budge an inch. This one made a nature sound, like waves lapping on a shoreline. Sometimes it sounded more like water sloshing around the washing machine, but what do you expect for seven ninety-nine at the discount store?
She sat up and sighed, finally silencing the sound.
Then she remembered why she had set two alarm clocks. Matt was coming in less than an hour to pick up Amanda. She had to wake her up and get her ready.
Molly got out of bed and grabbed her robe. Her eyes felt scratchy. She had managed to stay up until about midnight reading a book, then finally drifted off to sleep.
The girls were still awake when she fell asleep. She was sure that they had stayed up into the single digit hours. Well, it was only once in a while, she thought, as she quietly entered Lauren’s dark room. It was nice to see that they were such close friends. These are the memories you treasure and look back on—staying up all night with your best friend, trying on each other’s clothes, and talking about teachers and boys or whatever.
She lifted a shade to let in a little light, then turned to Jill’s bed, where Amanda was curled up in her sleeping bag. “Amanda, honey. It’s time to get up. Your dad will be here soon.”
Amanda rolled over and stretched, her eyes still closed.
Molly’s eyes widened as she stared at Amanda’s hair. What in heaven’s name? She ran to the bed, silently praying that she didn’t really see what she thought she saw.
No, it was true. Amanda’s beautiful auburn hair was chopped into a ragged chin-length bob and colored a hideous, iridescent shade of red. Or maybe it was really more of a purple, Molly thought, feeling her stomach knot with nerves.
She quickly turned to look at Lauren. Just as she feared, an almost identical makeover.
“Amanda. Lauren! Wake up this instant! What in the world have you two done to your hair?”
The two girls sat up and stared at her groggily. Amanda focused on Molly and a look of sheer panic took hold of her.
“It’s henna, Mom,” Lauren said reassuringly. “It’s not like dye or anything.”
“Does it wash out?” Molly asked.
“Um, well it’s supposed to. But I’m not really sure.”
“We really thought it did, Molly. Lauren read the box, and it sounded like you could wash it right out.”
Oh, dear. They must have tried already. That isn’t a good sign.
“Where’s the box?” Molly asked desperately.
“It’s in the bathroom somewhere, I guess.” Lauren shrugged her thin shoulders under her T-shirt.
Molly ran into the bathroom. It was strewn with wet towels that had purple streaks. She found the box on the floor and snatched it up, searching for the instructions. Yes, it did say it washed out—in four to six weeks.
“Four to six weeks!” She screamed the words out loud.
She ran back into the bedroom and glared at the girls, waving the box in the air. “Four to six weeks. It says so right on the package. How could you do this to yourselves? And what about those haircuts? What did you use, Lauren, a grapefruit spoon? What in the world possessed you?”
“I’m sorry, Molly. We just wanted to do something fun. My dad’s going to have a fit,” Amanda said.
Yes, he was. Molly felt like crying herself just thinking about facing him. Amanda’s eyes were brimming with tears, and Molly knew she couldn’t be too hard on her. Besides, she was sure this whole thing was Lauren’s idea.
She spun around to face her daughter, who was scrunched in the corner of her bed, her back against the wall, as if she wanted to melt right through it.
“Lauren Marie, how could you? Look at Amanda’s hair. Her father is going to be furious!”
“But I did it, too,” Lauren pointed out.
“That is not the point! You know you shouldn’t have done something like this without my permission. And you know I never would have let you dye your hair.”
“It’s not dye, Mom. It’s henna. It’s all natural, no chemicals. They used it all the time in ancient Egypt,” Lauren informed her, sounding like a TV infomercial.
Molly felt her head pounding, as if the top were going to blow right off. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
God, give me patience, she silently prayed.
When she opened her eyes, they were both staring at her, looking suitably terrified.
“Into the bathroom, both of you. I’m going to see if I can get that stuff out.”
Lauren and Amanda glanced at each other. They slowly slipped out of their beds and headed toward the bathroom. Lauren glanced over her shoulder at Molly. “You can try if you want,” she said in a small voice. “But I don’t think this is going to work.”
Molly had a feeling Lauren was right. Still, she had to try. She wondered if Matthew would notice if she sent Amanda home in a big, floppy hat. . . .
MATTHEW ARRIVED PROMPTLY AT NINE. THE GIRLS SPOTTED HIS CAR driving up and parking in front of Molly’s building. Amanda was ready and waiting in the special outfit she had brought for her grandfather’s party. She looked lovely, Molly thought.
Except, of course, for her hair.
“Oh, no. My dad’s here.” Amanda turned to Molly, looking stricken. “Would you just tell him what happened before he sees me, Molly, please? Like sort of break the news to him?”
Molly swallowed hard. The old story about the messenger who brings bad news came to mind. Especially the ending.
Last night she had once again imagined she had some chance of dating Matt. But this unexpected calamity would put them back to square one, she expected. Or even further, into a negative zone, if there was one.
The door buzzer sounded. Molly gulped. “Okay, you two stay in here,” she said to the girls. “I’ll go talk to him first.”
“Thanks, Molly.” The look of gratitude on Amanda’s face bolstered Molly’s courage.
“That’s okay, Amanda. Don’t worry. I have on my bulletproof vest.”
She heard them giggle nervously as she headed for the front door. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open.
“Good morning. Sorry to make everyone get up so early on Saturday.” Matt smiled at her, but she could hardly smile back. “Is Amanda ready?”
“She’s all dressed and packed,” Molly reported. “Come on in a minute.”
“Sure.” Matthew stepped inside. He, too, had dressed up for the occasion in a navy blue blazer, khaki pants, a white shirt, and a red-patterned tie. He looked like one of those ads for men’s clothes where the guys are always hopping off sailboats. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, slicked back on his head.
Of course, they’d have to be going to a major family party today on top of it all. Just my luck.
“So, where is she? Does she know I’m here?” He rubbed his hands together and looked down at Molly.
“Yes, she saw you drive up. She’s in the living room with Lauren. . . . It’s just that I need to talk to you a minute.”
He stared at her. She could tell he suspected this was something personal, about their relationship—or about the relationship they didn’t actually have, Molly corrected herself.
“It’s about Amanda,” she said quickly. “She and Lauren were up very late last night. I must have fallen
asleep. I didn’t hear a thing—”
“She’s not hurt or anything?” he broke in.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. But they decided to give themselves new hairdos.” She swallowed hard. “With henna, actually.”
“Henna? What in the world is that?”
“It’s all natural, a plant extract. The ancient Egyptians used it.”
His expression changed from mild alarm to what Molly would describe as Code Red. Sirens screamed and red whirling lights flashed in his eyes.
“Let me see her, will you?” he said curtly. He nearly pushed Molly aside as he made tracks for the living room.
Amanda sat in the corner of the sofa, her hands pressed between her knees. She peered up at her father.
“Hi, Dad,” she said weakly.
Matthew’s face turned pale as paper. “Amanda . . . what in the world did you do to yourself?”
“It’s only my hair. It will grow back, you know.” Her voice trailed off, and tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes.
“Your beautiful hair! For goodness’ sake, we have to go to Grandpa’s party! Doesn’t this stuff wash out?”
“Well, it did wash out a little,” Molly put in.
“You mean it looked worse than this?”
“A little brighter, I guess. The box said four to six weeks. But if you work at it with strong shampoo, I think you can get it out quicker than that. Or you could have Amanda’s hair dyed her regular color so you wouldn’t notice it so much.”
“Great!” Matthew took a deep breath. He looked down at his daughter again, then back up at Molly.
She braced herself for what was coming next.
“How could you let this happen? I send her over here, trusting you to take care of her. This is totally irresponsible!”
Molly nodded, realizing she did deserve to take some of the heat for this episode.
“I’m sorry, Matthew. Really. But I had no idea that they were still even up—”
“You should have had some idea. What would it take? Maybe if they’d shaved their heads bald, you would have heard the electric razor?”
“Now, please. Try to calm down. Lauren did the same exact thing to herself,” Molly pointed out. “I was furious at first, too. But really, it’s just hair. It will grow out.”
A New Leaf Page 24
