* * * * *
“Damn it, Kay!”
Mr. Christensen fumed as the line of Kay’s daughters had not yet formed for routine Sunday inspection.
“I don’t care if Queenie died only two mornings ago. There’s still discipline to maintain. That old woman’s death shouldn’t have surprised anyone.”
Kay hustled up and down the hall, grabbing the smallest of her daughters and pulling them into the living room. The girls drifted back towards their hiding places the moment Kay released them, but Mr. Christensen grasped their arms before they could retreat, his stare pinning the daughters back to their proper positions within the line.
“Show them a little kindness, Roy,” Kay begged.
“I’ve shown them too much,” Mr. Christensen growled as the twins Lily and Rose turned away before they were forced to look into Mr. Christensen's scowling face. “I’ve suffered enough disrespect. But that’s going to stop now that Queenie’s dead. I’ll put order back into this home. You’ll see, Kay. I’ll not suffer rude girls living beneath my roof.”
Mr. Christensen gazed down the forming line. His scowl twisted into a leer that held further danger. Queenie was dead. That awful woman would exercise no more influence upon the girls. Mr. Christensen would no longer have to suffer the old dame’s attitude. He would no longer have to bite his tongue so that the old crone’s money would continue to support the appetites of so many daughters. That wealth was now Kay’s inheritance, and Mr. Christensen would not let Kay forget what she owed him for providing shelter for each and every one of his wife’s daughters.
Mr. Christensen’s gaze stopped at the end of the line. The fire returned to his eyes.
“Where the hell is Mary?” Mr. Christensen twirled upon Kay.
Kay’s eyes panicked a glimpse down the hall. “She’s not here?”
“She’s not here!” Mr. Christensen nearly screamed.
Kay swiveled her sight. “I don’t know. Mary’s been so good to get everyone in line. She’s been so diligent to make sure no one kept you waiting, Roy. She’s probably just gathering up a little one.”
Mr. Christensen’s face flushed. “All the little ones are here.”
Kay gnawed at her fingernails. “There must be a reason.”
Mr. Christensen quietly counted before his temper exploded. “You’re a foolish woman, Kay. Mary is the worse of your daughters. She’s older, and she knows better. She has no excuse. I know how Queenie was always calling on Mary. The two of them were always scheming something. I show her more kindness than she deserves by not kicking her out of my home.”
Kay’s fingers hurt from the harm her teeth delivered, but she continued to gnaw at her nails rather than infuriate her husband further by rubbing tears from her eyes.
“Well, forgive me for having to take a piss.”
Kay dropped into the couch. All of her daughters held a breath in line.
Mr. Christensen whirled at the indignant voice and stared at Mary standing in the hall, a contemptuous grin spreading across her face. He glared at Mary’s eyes, but she did not turn away from the stare, instead returning the gaze with flaming eyes of her own.
“Get your ass in my line.” Mr. Christensen filled his voice with threat.
Mary’s smile lengthened. She walked casually to her customary place at the front of that line, her sight never flinching away from Mr. Christensen’s stare. In line, she patted Lily’s shoulder and winked at Kay.
“Eyes in front!” Mr. Christensen’s breath flooded Mary’s face.
“Yes sir!” Mary clicked her high heels in a mocking, exaggerated movement of attention.
“I warn you. Be most careful how you proceed,” Mr. Christensen sensed a dangerous change in Mary. His eyes retraced her shape, and her figure felt menacing though it had not changed. Had Mary combed her hair differently? What was it about her posture that was so changed? From where had arisen the new fire in her eyes?
Mr. Christensen pointed a finger at Mary and nearly pressed the digit into her lips. “What the hell is that?”
Mary grinned. “Lipstick.”
“It’s black,” Mr. Christensen snarled.
Mary giggled. “I thought it the perfect color for a Sunday morning.”
Mr. Christensen slapped Mary in a flash. The girls living within his trailer heard the act before their minds registered the sight of it. Mr. Christensen took a step back from line and looked at his hand. Mary had deserved such. Mary had tempted him to do so.
Mary’s head snapped straight as quickly as the slap had turned it. “That’s going to leave a mark, Roy. The good folks sitting in their Sunday pews will be impressed.”
Mr. Christensen eyes widened. “You’ll be punished for this when we get back.”
Mary winked. “I look forward to it.”
Except for Mary, none of Kay’s daughters hesitated to board Mr. Christensen’s van that took them to Sunday church. They feared for Mary, and they feared what Mary’s impertinence might have done to Mr. Christensen to make all of their lives harder. They rode to church in silence after Mary slowly boarded the van to sit amid her siblings. They were thankful for the opportunity to escape the trailer. They could not think of a better place than a church in which to voice their prayers.
Mary, in Need of Belle Page 7
