A Beautiful Mess

by Brenda S Anderson

  “Oh, I get it.” Mik’s face seemed to light up.

  Who knew this makeshift service would be exactly what Mik needed? Erin, too.

  She removed her shoes and socks and Clara’s too. Jon and Mik quietly followed suit. Erin dipped Clara’s feet into the bowl, and the child proceeded to kick and splash and giggle. Erin hugged the child and handed her off to Jon. Then Erin knelt in front of Mik and picked up the bowl. Without saying anything, she guided her daughter’s right foot into the bowl, washed it, then dried it, followed by the left foot. When she looked up at Mik, tears had stained her daughter’s cheeks. Oh, to be able to feel emotion like that.

  Erin turned to Jon, who cuddled a now-sleeping girl in his arms. Growing up with Jon, she never would have guessed he’d be this gentle with a child. Another reason why he should find a wife and adopt Clara. Even she could tell he loved the child.

  She reached for his right foot and felt his finger beneath her chin.

  He lifted her chin, drawing her gaze to his. “You don’t have to.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  He looked toward the ceiling, and a tear leaked from his eyes.

  “I forgive you, Jon. Will you forgive me?”

  He sighed and whispered. “Of course.”

  She raised his foot and dipped it into the warm water, then the other while vowing to herself she’d serve him as he’d done for her since Corey died. After drying his feet, she reached for the sleeping child so Jon could wash hers.

  “Mom, let me.”

  Something tugged at her heart, warmed it. Erin struggled to name that emotion as she sat on her pillow and handed Mik the water and towel.

  “Will you forgive me for being a brat?” Mik dipped Erin’s foot into the water, caressing the water over and around it.

  “Seventy times seven, Sixlet.” Erin laid her palm on her daughter’s cheek. “And please forgive me for being so . . . so hard, so clueless. I try—”

  “You succeed, Mom. I know it’s hard for you.”

  There went that warm, fuzzy feeling again. Erin couldn’t name it—all she knew was that it felt good.

  They closed the evening serving communion to each other. Then Mik went to her room, and Jon tucked Clara into her crib.

  Leaving Erin alone with Jon, saying goodbye at the front door. Like any self-respecting Minnesotans, the goodbye had already lasted fifteen minutes. That meant they likely had another fifteen to go before Jon left.

  “Thank you for tonight.” She hugged herself, warding off the chilly breeze. “I would have forgotten all about Maundy Thursday if not for you. Can you make it tomorrow night, too? I got a text from Zax this afternoon that part of his story on the Holy Week will be live tomorrow night. He’s walking the Via Dolorosa with other Christians. It would be a great way to observe the day.”

  “Zax?”

  “Yeah, can you believe it?”

  “I’ve seen God work miracles before. Someday I’ll learn to expect them.”

  What miracles would those be? A question Erin would save for another time.

  “So, yeah, I’ll be here tomorrow night. Same time?”

  “But in the house this time.”

  “I look forward to it.” He aimed for the steps, and then turned back as she was closing the door. “Erin.” He took a step toward her. An unreadable look filled his face. His eyes were intently focused on her, his neck angled, lips slightly parted. All she knew was that he scared the bejeebers out of her, and she took a step back.

  He shook his head, clearing away whatever that facial expression was. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “See you then.” She nodded, closed the door, and moistened her suddenly dry lips. Whatever this feeling was that Jon stirred in her, she didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

  * * *

  Oh, man, he’d almost blown it. “Idiot,” Jon mumbled to himself as he got into his Mercedes. If he’d kissed her liked he wanted to, really, really wanted to, that would have sent their relationship into a downward spiral faster than a runaway roller coaster.

  All his feelings from years ago, before Corey had managed to break through the walls around Erin’s heart, came pouring back. But he’d been a teenager then with a teenage crush. Now he was an adult, a successful one at that, one who’d sworn off relationships. Now, thanks to Corey and his last spoken words, the dam had broken on Jon’s heart, and it was too late for repairs.

  He slammed the car door and started the engine, hoping its purr would calm his emotions. He drove away from her house, praying distance would work alongside the car’s purr.

  Then he turned his mind back to work. What was the Caldwells’ angle? He pounded his fist on his steering wheel. Erin viewed their help as charitable, kind, but he’d seen Lilith, the queen of manipulation, do a job on Corey, and apples don’t fall far from the tree. Chances were, the Caldwells had ulterior motives, and he intended to discover what those motives were before Erin did something she’d forever regret.

  Chapter Seventeen

  With eyes still sticky with sleep, Erin looked around her usually tidy living room and grimaced. Clara sat among her toys which had somehow taken over the living room. A single child shouldn’t be able to create such chaos, but this child excelled at it. And with hosting Easter tomorrow, Erin needed a clean house. Well, the living room, kitchen, and bathroom should be cleaned anyway.

  Cleaning it all herself would be easy. There would be no arguments from Mik, no coaxing Clara to pick up her toys. If Erin did it all, though, the girls would learn that they didn’t have to clean up after themselves, which would result in bigger messes down the road. But Erin was not beyond bribery.

  She pounded on Mik’s door, hoping her daughter would hear that over the earbuds she most certainly had in.

  “What?” Came out in about five syllables.

  Erin conjured up a smile. “I have a proposition for you.”

  She waited. Counted to ten before she heard movement inside the bedroom. Made it all the way to twenty before the door cracked open and a single eye peeked out. “What?” Only one very sharp syllable this time.

  So, her daughter’s vocabulary consisted of a single word this morning. Erin would work with that. “We’re having company tomorrow.”

  The door inched open enough so Erin saw two eyes. “Yeah, so?”

  Ah, so she did know more words. Nice. “I would appreciate your help preparing.”

  Her daughter’s whole body slumped as if she were being asked to clean the town dump. And to think this was just the beginning of the dramatic teen years. Yay.

  “Would you prefer to clean the bathroom or the kitchen?”

  Mik’s left nostril wrinkled. “Neither?”

  Exactly the answer Erin expected, but she was ready with her covert bribe. “Me neither, but the work needs to get done, and we can’t decorate Easter eggs until that work is complete.”

  Mik’s body lifted as if tugged up by a puppeteer, and the door flung wide open, revealing a bedroom floor covered in more clothes than the living room had toys. That was a battle for another day.

  “You want to color eggs?” Dying eggs had always been one of Mik’s favorite activities with her father. Erin had never liked the mess but watching father and daughter bond over the activity had been worth it. Now it was one more role she’d be taking over for Corey.

  “I learned of a new way to dye eggs. Thought it would be fun to try.”

  “Is Uncle Jon gonna help?”

  “Clean?”

  Mik snorted. “Yeah, right. Is he gonna help dye eggs?”

  “Why would he help with that?”

  “I don’t know.” Mik shrugged. “I mean, he was here Thursday, and last night, and he’s gonna be here tomorrow too. It just seems.” She shrugged again. “Seems nice to have him around.”

  Really?

  Oh. Maybe because she missed her father, and Jon was filling that niche? Sure, Erin had enjoyed having Jon around the past couple of days, but things had become weird
between them somehow, and Erin couldn’t nail down why. Part of her enjoyed having him around, but another part wanted to run far away from him. He’d be here tomorrow. That was enough closeness for the weekend. “Today it’s just us.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders sagged just a bit. “Then I’ll do the kitchen,” she said with far less enthusiasm than she’d initially shown. Erin couldn’t compete with a dad figure—another reason Clara needed a different home. She deserved to have a mom and a dad raising her.

  On the way to the living room, she checked the bathroom. Hadn’t she just cleaned it four days ago? Ugh! Someday when she became independently wealthy—ha ha ha—she’d hire a maid to clean the kitchen and bathroom. But first she had to task Clara with putting away her toys.

  She returned to the living room and shook her head. These toys had to be escapees from Toy Story. Somehow in the short time Erin had been talking with Mik, they’d scattered further across the living room as if on their own power. Clara sat in the middle of it adding voice to her stuffed crocodile that was scolding a toy tractor. Oh, that child had an imagination, just like her father.

  She probably would do anything to avoid work, too, like her father.

  The question now was, how to make cleaning up fun? Bribing the child by offering a penny per toy would be one solution but being paid to pick up after yourself wasn’t a lesson she wanted to teach Clara.

  There had to be another way. She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the three shelf baskets for toys. All empty, of course. A race maybe? Her gaze drifted up the shelving to the ancient CD player/radio, and an idea sprouted. Maybe if they’d race along with a kids’ song. She still had Mik’s favorite CDs. The problem was, if they cleaned up the toys now, by the time Erin finished the bathroom, the living room would be back to its disaster state. Which meant Erin should clean the bathroom first, and then maybe she could enlist Mik to help with the game.

  Yeah, that could work.

  Before starting the cleanup, though, she began hard boiling a dozen eggs. Then, with her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she spent the next hour scrubbing the bathroom until it sparkled. This was one time she was grateful for having one bathroom in the house, and a tiny one at that.

  Then she checked on Mik in the kitchen. Her earbuds were in, as they’d been when Erin had removed the eggs from the hot water and set them in a bowl of cold water. Even on her hands and knees on the floor, scrubbing a spot that was no longer dirty, she was dancing to whatever tune played.

  The kitchen even sparkled as much as the bathroom. Her daughter may not like cleaning, but she did it well.

  With all Erin’s failures as a wife and mom, it was nice to see that she’d done one thing right. After setting the eggs on a towel to dry, she tapped Mik on the shoulder.

  Her daughter startled and jerked to a sitting position. She yanked out her earbuds. “Scare me much?”

  Erin raised her hands, hoping to convey that she was sorry. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. Just wanted to let you know the kitchen looks marvelous.”

  Mik blinked as if trying to absorb the rare compliment—Erin needed to work on that—then a smile broke out on her pretty face. “Thanks.”

  “Want to join me in a game?” Erin nodded to the disaster area also known as the living room.

  Mik looked into the messy room and wrinkled her nose. She excelled at that almost as well as she did rolling her eyes. “She’s such a pig.”

  “Yeah, she’s got a lot of her father in her for sure.” Corey had made messes faster than a hummingbird flapped its wings. That was one thing she hadn’t missed when he’d moved out. Erin walked to the living room and knelt in front of Clara. “Want to play a game?”

  The girl’s eyes grew as round as lollipops, and she nodded. “I wike games.”

  “I know. We’re going to play race with music.”

  “I wike race with music.” Clara clapped her hands together. Even Erin had to admit the child looked adorable.

  “Good. It’s one of my favorite games.”

  “Mine, too.” Mik mimicked her little sister’s clapping. Another proud mommy moment. For all Mik’s bluster about her annoying sister, she really did love her. The two loved each other.

  “I’ll set up the game.” Erin took the three empty toy baskets and set them a few feet apart by the wall separating the kitchen from the living area. Then, with her feet, she swept the toys into three lines pointing toward the baskets.

  She gestured toward the middle lane for Clara. “When I turn on the music, we race to put toys in our baskets.” She pointed to the lane closest to the door. “Mik will put her toys in that basket.” She stepped over to her line. “And I get these toys. Whoever gets all their toys in first gets to color the first Easter egg.”

  “I wike Easter eggs!” Clara jumped up and down.

  Oh, to have some of that energy.

  Erin placed a CD in the boombox and hit Play. “Pick up time!”

  Keeping her eye on Clara, Erin picked up a book from her lane and walked it slowly to the front where she dropped it into the basket. Mik copied her mom’s speed, while Clara bustled around getting toys from all three lanes, dropping in whichever basket was closest. Whatever worked.

  Well before the end of the three-minute song, Clara clapped her hands. “I did it!”

  Well, not quite. A couple of puzzle pieces had escaped her notice, but it was good enough for Erin. “Yes, you did!” She picked up the child and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You are the winner, and you get to color the first Easter egg!”

  “Yippee!” She wiggled from Erin’s arms and ran to the kitchen.

  “Oh, hold on there, Lolli. We’re going to color eggs in your art studio.”

  Did she just say, Clara’s art studio? Oh, boy, this child was already affecting how Erin thought, and Clara was becoming far too comfortable. When the child would have to move to a new home, it could be traumatic for her, once again.

  But Erin couldn’t treat her any differently. The child deserved to be shown love in this interim, even if Erin could never feel it.

  She waved the girls into the kitchen. She handed Clara a container of Cool Whip and had Mik find food coloring and plastic gloves while Erin dried the eggs and placed them in a bowl. She also grabbed a square cake pan, a cookie sheet, paper towels, and a handful of spoons. The three of them carried their items out to the garage and set them in the middle of the doggy bed circle. Since the temperatures were nearing sixty and bugs hadn’t hatched yet, she kept the garage door open, allowing in fresh air and plenty of sunlight.

  Erin opened the whipped cream container, gave Clara a spoon, and pointed to the cake pan. “Lolly, can you and Mik put the whipped cream into the pan?”

  “I make cake.”

  “Yes, you do. Whipped cream cake.”

  When the pan was full, Erin dotted the whipped cream with drops of different shades of food coloring. Then with a spoon handle, she drew a grid in the cream, swirling and distributing the food coloring.

  “Now, it’s time to color.” Erin set four eggs in front of each of them then demonstrated how to do it with her egg. “Put on your gloves.” She helped Clara fit the oversized gloves on her pudgy little fingers. “Good job.” Erin clapped. “Now take your egg and put it in the pretty whipped cream.” Erin set her egg among a color swirl. “Then spin it around.” With her gloved hand, she turned the egg in a bunch of different directions until it captured color on every white part. “Take it out.” She set the whipped-cream coated egg on the cookie sheet. “And let it sit.” Erin had never done this before, so she prayed it worked as well as online friends said it would.

  The girls both followed Erin’s directions.

  “Good job!” A familiar voice and clapping sounded from behind Erin.

  Jon.

  She turned to him, knowing the proper greeting would be a smile, but his arrival set off a whirlwind in her stomach.

  “Uncle Jon!” Clara leapt up and hopped over to him.
/>   “Lolli, don’t touch.” Erin grimaced as Clara embraced Jon’s jean-covered knees.

  He just laughed and squatted to her eye-level. He took her wrists, held up her hands, and his gaze flitted back and forth. “Are you painting again?”

  “Uh-huh? Auntie Erin paints eggs!”

  “Well that sounds like fun. Can I join in?” He looked to Erin.

  Erin rubbed her forehead then realized she still had on messy gloves. Yay. Now she’d be going to church tomorrow with a rainbow forehead. “You’re here.” She nodded to the empty dog pillow. “Have a seat.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  He sat across from Erin and a scent wafted toward her? Cologne? Jon was here wearing jeans, an old polo, and cologne?

  He picked up an egg. “How do I do it, Lolli?”

  “I show you.” She demonstrated, followed by licking the whipped cream off her gloves.

  He followed her directions to a T, including the licking. “Yum.”

  May as well join in the fun instead of being a party pooper. Erin licked her gloves. “Yum.” It really was good.

  Mik joined in. “Yummy!”

  A laughter-filled hour later, the eggs were colored, the whipped cream was eaten up, and Clara was out cold. Jon laid her in her bed then helped Erin clean up.

  Once clean, Erin spread out on the couch and Jon plopped down in the recliner. Erin closed her eyes and relished the quiet. It had been a good day. A memory maker.

  “I like seeing your smile.”

  Erin jerked open her eyes.

  Jon was sitting up on the edge of the chair, leaning toward her. “You look content.”

  Well she was until he had to go and . . . and what? Compliment her on her smile? What was wrong with that? She’d advise Mik to say, ‘Thank you.’ Perhaps she should follow her own advice.

  “Thanks.” She looked toward her feet, avoiding his gaze. “We had a good time and painted very pretty eggs.”